my friend, don't look back
by xxruinaxx
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, corporal of the British Army. Françis Bonnefoy, Sergeant of the French Army. Both of them are part of the hopeless effort to stop the German advance into France. Matthew Williams and Alfred Jones enlist to serve their countries. But what started as a partriotic war emerges to be a fight for sheer survival. Death is always present. But orders are clear: no step back
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one (Arthur Kirkland)

1st of September 1939, a war unseen.

The sound of the airstrikes was deafening, the light of the bombs and the explosions representing the new era of warfare. Something no one had ever encountered before, something no one had braced themselves for. The Blitz on Poland. And just like that, a country had to fall to its knees. Occupied by people driven by both misled ideology and ambition to please the Führer. Like animals they followed the commands that they had received. No regards for international law. No regards for human lives. Memories from just a few decades ago surged within the people of world. Memories from the worst war the world had yet seen. But this time, it was different.

This time, the enemy was different – for both the offender and the defender. There was no place for the other party, not in this world. One side had to perish for the war to end.

Arthur Kirkland. A young, barely 20 years old Corporal of the British Army. He had just been promoted a few months ago. He really didn't expect to be in active duty that fast. Unlike a huge part of the younger soldiers in the British Army, he had enlisted long before the Blitz. He made his way up the first ranks without ever being tested on the battlefield. Of course, he had heard stories: Stories of the ruthless, animalistic Germans from back then, in 1917. He enlisted in the army because of the devotion he felt for his nation – his people and their values. The values their fathers had defended with their flesh and blood. And now, he was there. The drafting of young soldiers had begun long before the actual declaration of war, but no one had expected war to be here so fast. By granting the German Reich to expand by allowing the 'Anschluss' of Austria and allowing the annexation of parts of Czechoslovakia, the UK government had hoped to stop another world war. A hope that was crushed violently on the first of September.

Arthur woke to a city on the streets. People running around, all fearfully reading the same headline over and over again. He couldn't read it from the distance, so he asked a gentleman next to him what they were all reading. "Haven't you seen it, son?" The old man asked, "Hitler invaded Poland – bombed those poor cities to hell!" "When did this happen?" Arthur asked, directly thinking what that meant for the British Empire – what that meant for the world. "It's still happening! I knew that this nation would bring evil to the world again! We should have eliminated them before they had the power to conduct war again!" The man growled angrily. "Was there any official response from our government?" Arthur asked. "Not yet. But it won't take long, I bet. Hitler needs to be stopped" the man replied. "Well, I won't argue there…" Arthur muttered and turned around: "Thanks for the help, Sir."

That his time on leave was over – that was apparent to Arthur. He knew that this was the time he had – in his heart – waited for. Not war, but the chance to defend his country. To be the good guy. It's a complicated relationship of needing war to be the protector and the undying desire for peace. However, now was not the time to doubt the choices he had made in joining the army. In the taxi, the driver approached Arthur: "So you're in the army, junior?" "Yes, sir, I am" Arthur nodded. "Well, I sure hope for you that you won't have to get into this one" the driver said. "Sir, if our nation is in danger, I will have to. However, this is his majesty's and Mr. Chamberlain's call to make" Arthur replied. "All I can say is that this Hitler is a madman and I don't want to see another war like the great war" the cab driver replied solemnly. "Neither do I. What we want, however, doesn't stop madness." On his way to the army base, Arthur thought of his mother and father. They had gone away to America as his father's job required him to meet new business partners. A part of him wished that they'd stay there. From what he knew, America's government – even more so the people – not about to join any war. Just like in the great war, they'd probably try to remain neutral. And for their safety, Arthur hoped that, once they heard the news, wouldn't return. There was something unusual about the Germans. More so the Wehrmacht. He had seen them on television: In their perfectly adjusted uniforms, all in an even row, all with the same clear devotion to the only one they trusted. The Führer. It was a set of mind Arthur couldn't understand. But they were united in their effort of fulfilling the Führer's ideological dreams and commands – that was their strength. Unbreakable devotion to the cause.

It didn't even take 24 hours for the government of the United Kingdom to declare war on Germany. So did France. America, as Arthur had suspected, didn't react.

On the 3rd of September, Australia joined the United Kingdom and declared war on Germany, too. Also New Zealand and Canada reassured the crown their support. Arthur was assigned to his division, the 3rd division, also known as the Iron Division that was part of the British Expeditionary Force that would most likely be used to support the French in case of an attack. Arthur knew that whatever lay ahead of him, it would be bloody. The only things that were reassuring in his eyes were the facts that he trusted the man who was his division's commander – Bernard Montgomery – and the fact that there was quite a distance and quite a few countries that separated Britain from Germany. But that's the thing about Blitzkrieg. You don't see it coming.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two (Françis Bonnefoy)

Not the born soldier by the looks of it, Françis Bonnefoy was a Sergeant of the French Army in 1939. He was in his army base when the news broke that both Great Britain and France had declared war on Germany. However, no command was given to make ready to support and defend Poland. At least for the French, they knew that they were next. 'They won't attack the Soviets, so they can only turn west' – that was the conclusion most came up with. The question was just… when? And where? Would the Germans use the Schlieffenplan again? Would they dare to enter neutral territory again, hence breaking international law again? But then again, this was not normal warfare – this was Blitzkrieg. And the enemy was Germany – the country that had defied any boundaries of morality in the great war.

"And remember, gas is invisible. It killed way too many soldiers of our nation in the last conflict, so we have developed new masks that will protect the lungs from being poisoned" his battalion's commander stated. Françis was part of the 87Infantry Regiment, which belonged to the 32nd Infantry Division. Said division served under the organisation of the First French Army. The Army was led by General Gaston Billotte. He had been active in the great war, and just like most senior commanders of the French army, made his experiences with the 'German warfare' in the great war. Especially the gas – mostly mustard gas. From what Françis had heard, that was one of the worst things in that conflict: Entire trenches, filled up with bodies that looked intact, but all of them had perished. Would it be like that again? Would the enemy be invisible? Françis had trained for gas attacks in the course of his training, but obviously, they never trained with actual gas – no one, except the veterans, knew how a gas attack looked like – and how you even realise one is going on. Even though he didn't like the prospect of a shoot-out, Françis preferred the idea of having an enemy that he could see. The ten men under his command, his squad, asked him about that when they heard the news of a new war in Europe. "As much as I hate to choose one of the options, I can shoot a human. I cannot shoot gas. Furthermore, a bullet can kill one. One canister of gas might kill an entire platoon" Françis had replied. However, both of these options were things Françis didn't want to think about. On the brink of war, on the brink of actually having to go to war, all he wanted to think about was his fatherland. The pride he took in being French. The people he had to serve now. "Aren't you afraid?" a soldier under his command asked him. "I will not be afraid of a people that doesn't want peace. I will not be afraid to face the monsters that have brought havoc to our nation. As I love what is behind me, I can't allow myself to be afraid" Françis lied. He lied without even realising it. Because he had lied to himself for far too long. He was afraid – he was scared of death. But he pushed the fear aside, buried it under the patriotism that had been indoctrinated in their generation. But there was one more reason to lie: In war, sometimes the truth doesn't matter. Not on such a basic, psychological level. If it helps you to fight, believe it. Françis knew that. Even though he hated killing, he could make himself believe that pulling the trigger was the most courageous, most admirable action one could ever do. In the name of and the love to the fatherland. Something that was greater than him.

Mobilisation in France was fast. Young men drafted within days, send to the many camps to train. It was a race against time.

News broke that the soviets, too, had invaded Poland. Apparently, Germany and the Soviet Union had signed a contract to split Poland in half – and everyone knew that no one would dare to go against the Soviets. So Poland… well, Poland was lost, at least for now. No French or British troops had seen combat to oppose the invaders – it just made no sense anymore. Number one priority had to be defence.

After a training session on the camp ground, Françis and a few other sergeants sat around a table in the camp. "We should have crushed these spiked-heads in 1918… Do you think they will attack soon?" one of them, Théo, asked. "What do you mean, we should have? They were in front of Paris! It wasn't like we could have just won. Who knows what would have happened if the Americans didn't join the war" another, Henri, replied a bit annoyed. "What we could have or should have done is irrelevant now" Françis replied "I don't think this will be a war won by trenches. It seems like their best weapon till now is sheer speed. So yes, they will probably make their move rather soon. Unlike Britain, there is no ocean, no country to separate us." "So you really believe this will be a world war again, Françis?" Henri asked. Françis shrugged: "I can't say if the world will go to war. Till now, Asia, Africa and South America aren't involved in it. But who knows? Maybe. But Europe will have to burn, once again." "I can't believe these idiots just invade a country! That's unbelievable! No declaration of war – nothing! Just imagine, you sleep unsuspectingly in one second and then the other, bombs are dropped on your head!" Théo muttered angrily. "It's war, Théo. If you search for humanity, love and kindness in your enemy, you will be heavily disappointed. Those people are brainwashed monsters. They don't know empathy" Françis replied solemnly. "What happened to you, Françis? I mean, sure, this is horrible and all, but where is your smile and cheeriness?" Henri asked silently. Françis shook his head, but he laughed: "It's temporarily washed away when I think about the enemy. But when they pay the price, don't worry, my friend. I will never lose my laugh, heart and hope."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three (Matthew Williams)

'BRITAIN DECLARES WAR ON GERMANY – CANADA MOBILISES' Matthew looked at the newspaper in his hands. "What are you thinking, darling?" His mother asked him quietly. "They need soldiers... They need soldiers that will be going to Europe" Matthew replied silently. "You're not really thinking about going to war there, Mattie, do you?" she asked in horror and grabbed his hand: "Don't you remember the stories of uncle Pete? Why he can't see anymore?" "I know, mother. And no, I do remember these stories. But when no one goes there to fight, the offender can take whatever they want" he replied, avoiding his mother's concerned eyes. "Matthew… war is not a game. It's hell" she whispered in tears. "I know. But what if they lose? What will the world be like that is ruled by the Nazis? Aunt Josephine is a Jew, remember? What would you do if they were to come after her? Isn't that hell, too?" Matthew asked, his voice slowly turning firmer. A tear from his mother's eye fell on his hands: "Of course, my darling. But I just – I just don't want to lose you!" Matthew pressed his lips together. He was scared, too. But then, he forced himself to look at his mother's sad, scared face: "I don't want to die, either, mother. But I could never stay behind and just wait for someone else to do the fighting without helping, too. It's against the principals you have raised me to let others do the work and to pay the price without helping." "Oh, darling" she whispered under tears and hugged her son: "Does your father know?" "I haven't seen him today, I fear" Matthew replied, trying not to cry himself. Not necessarily because of his coming future, but because of his mother's pain. "I fear… I fear he will understand" she choked. "I know you do, too" Matthew replied and smiled at her. "… I fear that, too" she whispered, "My god, why? Why do they fight again? Weren't the millions enough that had to die thirty years ago?" "They're mad, mother. Hitler is mad. His followers are mad. They separated themselves so much, they found endless enemies within and without. That's why I must go. They must be stopped" Matthew replied and pressed his mother's hand: "May the price be high, but it's worth it. For our freedom and the safety of our homeland." "I cannot say I support your plans with my mind, but I know in my heart that you are a good boy. My little son, I just don't want you to suffer" his mother said, trying not to cry yet again. "I know you don't. I don't want to leave you, either. But the war won't go away by staying behind" Matthew replied, "And I don't want my country to suffer."

The following day, Matthew approached the recruiting centre that was the closest to his home. He was surprised by how many young men were standing there, ready to join the army – if they were allowed to. After being examined by a doctor, a member of the armed forces asked each and every one of the possible future soldiers why they wanted to join the armed forces. Matthew stood there, waiting to be asked as well. "So, Williams? Why do you want to join the armed forces?" "Sir, it is my duty as a citizen to defend what I hold dearest. My country and its values!" He replied, surprised by his own confidence. "What branch of the armed forces do you want to join, Williams?" Of course, he had thought of that, but to say it was always harder than to think about it: "Sir, the Army, infantry, sir!" The officer in front of him let out a grunt-like sound and told him to stand in the line again. Then, he went to the next man.

That day, Matthew accepted. He did join the infantry – because of his prior experience as both a hunter and just shooter in general, he was assigned to the Royal Regina Rifles, a regiment that had seen combat in the great war. A regiment that was admired by many who knew the Canadian Army.

Just a few days later, the news broke that Poland officially surrendered to both Germany and the Soviet Union. No one was really surprised by the news – no one could expect any nation to win such a hopeless fight – but now, the concern shifted to the west: Who was next? And when? Because even the veterans of the great war were no experts on Blitzkrieg. How Matthew hated that word. But he found it was surprisingly fitting for the Nazis to use such a strategy. Their elite troops, the SS, wore two 'S' on their uniforms that looked like a lightning, like a Blitz. He had seen them a few times on television and in the newspaper. How they all stood under the same flag, behind the same men. Those weren't men anymore, those were cattle. A cattle that followed the wrong leader.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Arthur Kirkland)

After the fall of Poland, the entire British Army was on guard, but there was this lingering belief that they, the British, were save. War was there, but none of the young soldiers really understood what that meant. Blinded by an idealistic view of patriotism, heroism and an unrealistic view on what it is like to go to war. Arthur's 12 men that he was in command of, his squad, were juniors, most of them having served for less than two years. But in the wake of the wave of drafting, his men were still more experienced than most. Even though – what does experience mean, really? Without even standing on the battlefield once, could they really call themselves 'experienced'? But not even Arthur questioned this very truth. He knew he had to trust his men, his brigade, his division – and in the end, the British Expeditionary Force. He had to trust every level and every commander to do their job and to do it well.

In April of 1940, the British Expeditionary Force was mobilised as a reaction to the German invasion and occupation of both Denmark and Norway. It was unbelievable to Arthur how all these countries could just be overrun. In Denmark, they couldn't even find the time to counterattack. In Norway, the Germans attacked by air, sea and with their Panzers – and even though there were some battles, nothing that could actually be called a war. But now, where there was absolutely no other way than west for Germany to move, the BEF was called in to support the French army as rumours spread that the next targets would be the Benelux states before turning south to France. Being told that they will have to hold the Maginot line while parts of the French army would try to encircle the approaching German invasion force from the southeast of France, Arthur informed his squad that the time to go has come. They didn't know when the invasion would start – but no one doubted that it would come. Those illusions had perished.

 _'Dearest Mother,  
I now will go to France. My division will, as part of the British Expeditionary Force, support the French army to secure their boarders. I am excited, but I leave home with a heavy heart. I think about you and father often. I wish I could have seen you before my departure. Yet, this all moves so rapidly, I simply cannot wait. Do not be scared, mother. I know you never wanted me to join the army, but I know we are all fighting for the right cause. I leave London behind, knowing that its symbolism is worth defending. Father has always said that when he faced the Germans in the great war, that he knew that his death would be worth it in the end. I do not think of death. I only think about what lays in my hands, in the hands of my men and our division. The fate of our people, and the fate of our kingdom. So do not cry when you are in despair, as we do not cry when embarking on this mission.  
Until I return to England, this will most likely be the longest letter you will receive from me, mother. I will write you whenever I can. I hope that, even when you are scared for our lives, you will find the calmness to be proud of us. I really wish to make you proud by serving his majesty and the kingdom of England._

 _In my darkest minutes, I will think of you and father. I am grateful that the two of you were always there for me. Now, now it is my time to be there for you and our country._

 _With the deepest of love._

 _Your son,_

 _Corporal Arthur Kirkland'_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 (Françis Bonnefoy)

The Maginot-line. France's last line and best fortified line of defence that stretched from the Atlantic coast down to the alps. It was a line of bunkers and strong holds along the French boarder and it was said to be an invincible line. In any normal scenario of warfare, it could not be breached by any army – or so they said. Françis didn't doubt the strength of the Maginot-line or the people that were told to hold it. It wasn't just the French army that was told to guard the positions, it was an effort that was supported by both a Belgium and British force.

Françis' First Army had received the order to fortify the stretch of line right to the south of the British area. However, the parts of the Maginot-line that were lying right next to Belgium were said to be rather unlikely to be targeted by the Wehrmacht. Even though several divisions were stationed there, it was far less fortified than the parts of the Maginot-line that were directly facing Germany. It was said to be more likely that the Germans would try to retake 'lost' areas like the Elsass-region before moving towards Paris.

In trains the hundreds of soldiers were taken north, the entire First Army. Françis walked up to the train he would have to board next to the soldiers of his company. If he had to describe the mood, he would have called it excited. Hopeful and joyful. He could hear the people standing around them chanting their national anthem.

 _Allons enfants de la patrie! La jour de gloire est arrivé! Contre nous de la tyrannie, l'etendard sanglant est levé! Entendez-vous dans les campagnes , mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras, égorger nos fils, nos compagnes! Aux armes, citoyens! Formez vos bataillons! Marchons, marchons! Qu'un sang impur! Abreuve nos sillons._

This newfound unity, this newfound strength, it felt unreal to Françis. It was like the men that were being taken to the front were already heroes, even though they have never shot a bullet aimed at a German. But this pride they all felt, this pride bound them together. There was no longer an 'I', there was only an 'us'.

Françis watched the crowd cheering at them when all the soldiers in the wagons waited for them to get moving. The people in and outside the wagons yelled in unity: Nous détruisons Paris, nous détruisons la tyrannie. Françis tried to memorise as many faces as he could: The young woman with deep brown hair, big eyes and small lips. The little boy with light brown hair and dark eyes, who looked like he was staring at something supernatural. The old man whose eyes had this pride to them that told Françis this man had been, years ago, in his position: A soldier. "Why are you staring at them, Françis?" Henri asked a bit confused, "Do you know them?" "In fact, I have never seen then before… but if I need a reminder of why I am fighting, I want to remember their faces. I want to remember who I am defending when I am lying in a trench with a rifle in my hand" Françis replied and smiled: "I could imagine that helps to keep us fighting, non? Not to think of us, but to think of them." After he finished his sentence, the train started moving slowly. The cheers grew louder as the soldiers started to move away from them. "Isn't it unusual? To take off and not knowing when we will return?" Théo asked, who was, too in the carriage of Françis and Henri. Françis didn't reply anything. After some moments, he said: "How did your families react to your departure?" "Not much, sad but proud" Théo replied. "Told me to write them" Henri answered, "Yours?" "I told them to leave Paris." The two men in front of Françis stared at him: "What? Why?!" "We have relatives in Switzerland. I know we will defeat the Wehrmacht, but what if they bomb Paris nonetheless? They bomb every major city in their way and there is nothing I can do to protect them!" Françis replied unusually harshly. There was something in the faces of the two men that told Françis that, even though they understood him to a degree, they were shocked. Leaving the country – in fear of the enemy. "…So, they are in Switzerland?" Henri asked dryly. "If they follow my plea, yes. No matter what happens to us, or France, for that matter, I don't want to worry about them. It's a selfish reason, but I want to know that I did everything in my power to protect them" Françis nodded. He didn't doubt that they would be victorious. He just didn't understand the mind of the enemy – and to know your enemy is just as crucial than to know yourself in warfare.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 (Matthew Williams)

For the first months of training, Matthew remained in Canada – in Regina, where his regiments HQ was located. Much of the basic training was dedicated to stamina, strength and basic survival skills. The other large part of the training were tactical and strategical thinking and knowledge. Obviously, the trainees had to learn as much about the German war machine as possible, especially what Blitzkrieg meant for the defence. But as a rifle regiment, they had to put a focus on rifle skills, both on shooting and on the more technical side.

"Man, I could take that freaking machine gun apart and put it together in my sleep now!" a fellow trainee, Carter Smith, groaned, when – once again – they were told to disassemble and reassemble their machine guns. "Well, at least it's the machine gun this time and not the mortar or the anti-tank guns" Matthew replied quietly while disassembling his machine gun. "You know, theoretically there are engineering troops that would support us in an attack" Carter replied and groaned. "I don't necessarily believe a German would wait for the engineer to get to you, help you and let you prepare yourself again before blowing your head off, but what do I know" Matthew replied sarcastically. "Someone's pissy" Carter remarked. "No man, but I want to get this job done. If I hate it or not, order is order" Matthew answered without taking his eyes off his gun that now lay in pieces in front of him. "Boys, the clock's ticking and time's running out! Those who are not finished in time can do the entire thing again, so get yourselves together!" The supervisor yelled. Matthew pressed his lips together and started to reassemble the entire thing. The Bren machine gun wasn't the only weapon that they had to know inside and out, the same went for the pistols they carried. Furthermore, they had to have the basic knowledge on the mortars and anti-tank-guns so that in case of a mechanical failure, they could react fast.

"Have you heard? Denmark and Norway have fallen, too" one of the trainees who shared the same cot as Matthew. "Who told you?" Matthew asked, hoping it was nothing more than a rumour. But he knew that it was more than possible. "I think they will inform us this evening. I heard our commander discuss with his colleague. Apparently, British troops now enter the war in Europe on land" the trainee replied. "Well, it does make sense in the mind of the maniacs who lead Germany" Matthew stated quietly, "They're always talking about their 'Nordic race'." "Man, that's what I can't understand – how can an entire nation just believe such bullshit?" the trainee sighted. "From what my parents told me, it wasn't 'just'. He came to power in 33, and he came to power by the will of the majority – but not everyone. It took him five more years to change that, apparently" Matthew muttered and lay on his bed: "I don't even care. They threaten our world, they threaten us. Why they do it – that's a question I don't even want to have answered. I don't want to understand them. I just want them to lose." "I just… you know, can't believe humanity could end up like that." Matthew looked at the trainee in front of him: "Then don't. Don't believe humanity can do that. But the enemy can. And that's all that matters for us, they are the enemy. Don't make it harder for yourself by wanting to understand them. They don't understand us, either."

Matthew knew that what he said was not entirely true. He knew and he felt like they were more than the enemy. But he had to push it aside. Even now, where they didn't encounter a single German, there was no room for empathy with them. Whether he wanted it or not, he had to look at them like creatures. Like animals. It was the only way to make him want to pull the trigger. Killing was against everything he was ever told to do. Be kind, be forgiving, be polite. But now, those things had to be put aside, at least for a group of people. It was that either-us-or-them-mentality that Matthew had to accept to become a soldier. But the worst part was, he knew that this is what he was doing.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 (Arthur Kirkland)

"Look at that!" "This is unreal!" The harbour was filled with ships. The entire BEF would have to board them in the next hours. Arthur stared at the countless ships, remembering the English Armada he had learned about in school. Was this how it looked like? Countless ships, side by side? There was this sense of pride and excitement, and the feeling of strength that all who looked at the fleet shared. This view seemed to take all the worries of the soldiers away. There was no way they could lose! "Ready, Kirkland?" his platoon leader, lieutenant Winters, asked. "Sir, more than I'll ever be" Arthur replied. "Then get your squad. We should get going. You and the other two corporals, get your squads on the ship. Then, go to the briefing room. You'll get your objectives there. Understood?" lieutenant Winters asked. "Yes, sir!" Arthur replied and saluted before searching for his squad.  
"Boys, move it. We'll get going!" Arthur declared once he found the men who seemed too occupied with the young women standing there to even think about war. Arthur sighted and used the heels of his shoes to make a loud sound so the twelve men were interrupted in whatever they were doing, turned around and stood to attention. Arthur looked at the smiling women behind them: "I'm sorry, but I have to take them with me. France awaits."

"You won't do that when we're abroad, is that understood?" Arthur muttered while he led his men on their assigned ship, "We have a job to do and a reputation to keep." "…Yes, corporal" one of them, 18-year-old Jason Baker, replied. "I will brief you once I know the details of our mission. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid, understood? Casualties before ever seeing the battlefield – that would be stupid" Arthur declared once they entered their rooms. "Understood!" "I assume I'm back in a bit over an hour" Arthur stated before he turned around to make his way to the briefing room.

"As a part of E company, you will be assigned to guard the line east of Lille. You'll be forming a triangle, Kirkland, you'll take the position to the east. In case of an engagement, you must communicate with A company from the First French Army as they are right next to you. It's easy to start friendly fire. Johnson, you'll take the position to the west. The same goes for you, even though it's always easier to communicate with platoons from the same army. Ford, you'll be positioned between the two, some kilometres to the south. You will be positioned in front of G company from the Royal Artillery, 3rd field regiment. So, don't walk into their fire if they were to shoot, that would be pretty dumb" lieutenant Winters declared, handing maps to them where their future position was signalised with a circle. "To each of your squad, I will assign you a radioman. It's possible we won't be able to meet up to discuss new strategies if, or rather, when the Germans attack. Radiomen, like medics, can and will turn out to be immensely important. Any questions?" It was dead-silent. The three corporals looked at their maps, at all the different divisions, companies – everything that was marked on them. It felt like one of the thousand training exercises they had done in the past – but this time, real lives were on the line. 'This is it' Arthur thought, 'we are actually going to war'.

It was hard to explain how he felt. This realisation was different than the thoughts that were running through his head when he had entered the ship. After he had briefed his squad, he sought time alone to fight this battle within him. It wasn't that he was afraid of dying – somehow, was clear to him that he'd make it. He thought about a life with gruesome injuries, about the pictures of the dead Germans that he would have to see – but he didn't think that he wouldn't return. Maybe that's the mistake soldiers make that had never been to war: They don't know the true fragility of a human life, and the luck that it takes to move in the right second, so you're not hit by the blast of a mortar, or by the bullet of an enemy's rifle.

Arthur watched the coastline of France. It came closer, it became endless in his eyes. What looked like relatively small area on his map was now huge. They disembarked and made their first steps on French soil. They were greeted, well, their officers were greeted by French army officials. Photographers were there, too. The first British troops in France – apparently, that was worth photographing. Some platoons were taken to their positions by cars, Arthur's entire company, however, had to take the train first, and then were resettled in cars. Driving through the villages of northern France, Arthur couldn't really imagine war coming here. It all seemed to picturesque, so calm and quiet. 'But then again, that is probably how Poland looked, too' he thought. How he hated the word 'Blitz'. It violated everything he had previously learned about war – even about the great war. It was just… cruel.

"Get out, the last kilometres we have to walk!" Winters yelled. The three squads assembled and began their way up north. No one really talked when they walked over the green fields surrounding Lille. Johnsons squad moved west, closer to the city itself, while the squad under Lewis Ford had taken their position together with platoon leader Winters some minutes ago. So now, Arthur was alone with his men, moving towards their post further to the east. "It's quiet" Benjamin Simons, 18 years old, remarked. "Well, I don't think their strategy is to ring warning bells so we know they're coming" Arthur replied sarcastically, "Doesn't mean we couldn't be attacked in the night. Fighter planes can reach this place within minutes." Once they had reached the post that lay on top of a little hill, they started digging. Not yet faced with the time pressure of raging combat, they managed to dig formidable fox holes, rather trenches, really. Like the way they had learned as a result of the great war. That this tactic would be useless in some days, that didn't even cross Arthur's mind.

That was right at the end of April. The wait for anything to happen was… strange. Strange, because no one knew what they were waiting for. Sure, all of them knew that, in theory, the Germans would come. Eventually. But in theory, that could be in some months. Till then, some units would most likely be replaced by others. But at least they had actual food – not much, already, rationing had started for both civilians and soldiers, but they weren't living off can food rations. If it hadn't been for the guns, it would have felt like an odd camping trip of which no one knew when it would be over.

"Do you think we'll ever get to fight?" Timothy Warners asked one night. It was May the 9th. "At some point, sure. Maybe not here, though" Eric Glass replied. Arthur didn't say anything because he didn't know how he wanted to answer – did he want to fight? For sure. He wanted to kill Germans. But did he want to be under mortar and artillery fire and have bombs dropped on his head? … not really. So he just kept quiet and stared into the clear sky. It was an unusually clear night. He could see the moon and the stars. With the light that he had, he looked on his map. He knew that the Belgium and Dutch army were not there to stop the German advance, they were there to delay it so the French and British army could counterattack and defeat them. In theory, that sounded easy – attack their flanks, the artillery should take out heavy machinery before the infantry would engage. In theory, it was simple. The thing about theory was just – it doesn't work out that way.

They were about to get some rest, but then, the radioman yelled: "It's the HQ!" Arthur felt his blood run cold while he watched his radioman picking the phone up. He had never seen a man turn literally white. He waved Arthur over: "He demands you." Arthur took the phone: "Sir?" "Get ready, Luxembourg fell. They're moving towards Holland now, the Luftwaffe is up. We alerted the Artillery, but be on high alert. We have a major problem because the BEF is not complete and only very view companies and divisions are fully entrenched. The French will send troops up north to assist the Belgium army, but that won't buy much time. The fight moves south, now and this means we will have to engage soon." "Yes, sir. I copy that. Any change in our location?" Arthur asked, forgetting his anxiety. "Well, holding the position would be nice, but till now, no, no relocating." "Copy that. Anything else?" Arthur asked. "No, not till now. Keep your head low, I'd say. They're famous for aerial bombing." "We'll do our best" Arthur replied. "Fair enough. I'll call you when there is anything new."

Arthur held the field phone in his hand like holding it would shelter him from what was to come. "What's the matter?" Timothy asked. "Get in the trenches, put your gear on. They've invaded Luxembourg and are moving towards Belgium" Arthur said coldly. He said words he himself couldn't understand. This was it. This was the war they had been waiting for.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (Francis Bonnefoy)

Francis was lying in an uncomfortable, incredibly cold bed in the garrison that had been installed at the Maginot line where his company was stationed when he was woken up by yelling.

"Out, everyone! Assemble in the briefing room!"

"..What is it, now?" Théo muttered who was forcing himself to open his eyes.

"I mean, I am not briefed on anything, but, probably, the western offensive of the Germans has begun" Francis muttered, grabbed his jacket, put on his shoes and got out of their room. The hallway was filled with soldiers of all ranks, sergeants, captains, regular soldiers, officers. No one really knew what was going on, but they all knew that it wasn't a test.

"Sergeants, to the briefing room, now!"

Francis lifted an eyebrow when looking at the chaotic scene unfolding before him. But had heard the order and made his way to the briefing room. He looked at the captain of his company and the leaders of the different platoons. Surrounded by other sergeants, Francis asked: "What is happening outside?"

"Luxembourg has de facto surrendered, and Holland won't hold them up for long. The Germans are on rapid advance to our north, and we can't enter Belgium until they declare war on Germany, it would break international law. So we are caught up here, and we will have to bear the first wave of assault" the captain said dryly, "The Luftwaffe is moving rapidly, but we don't know where they're headed. It's possible though that they will bomb cities again, just as they have in Poland. Most likely, we have some days until they reach Belgium and we can move north, but I want you all on your positions. Any advances have to be coordinated with the BEF and our other divisions. Your commanding lieutenant will hand you out a map where you can see your position that you will take now, and where you will be going once Belgium enters the war. Any questions?"

It was an eerie silence in the room, everyone preoccupied with their own thoughts. No one asked anything. There was nothing to ask, too. They all knew that this was the thing they had prepared for, even though most of them had believed that the conflict would be resolved by diplomatic ways. Francis looked at his fellow sergeants. Now it was their time where they weren't allowed to be weak, to fail.  
Francis, with his orders in his hands, walked back to his squad.

"The Germans, right?" one of them asked.

"Get your weapons, we're moving out. I'll brief you on the way" Francis commanded.

When he was alone, waiting for his men to return, thoughts were running through his heads. What would it be like? Standing on a field, lying in a foxhole, probably being shot at, trying to kill fellow humans? But then he remembered the lesson that they had learned when the prospect of a war against the third Reich had become a realistic possibility. Germans aren't humans. They're the enemy disguising as one.

"We will be the French squad that is next to the British Force. Our position is behind a hilltop, an artillery squad will be stationed in front of us as soon as they arrive, let's just hope that's before the Germans are there. They've attacked Luxembourg and are sweeping west now through the Netherlands and presumably through Belgium. The number of tank divisions is unknown right now, but apparently, it's a huge number. Furthermore, the Luftwaffe serves as a support of their ground forces and form, together with their tank divisions, the spearhead of the assault" Francis told his men when they walked through the dark over the fields of northern France.  
From their garrison, it was a four-hour march to their position. The stars could easily be seen in the dead of night.

"Why are you staring at the stars, Francis? Don't you have a compass?" one of his men, Louis, asked.

"Oh, of course I do" Francis replied and smiled: "But I just want them to remain there. Remember the stories of Poland? When the Luftwaffe's planes clouded the skies and let bombs rain down? As long as I can see the stars, we won't be blown to pieces."

"How do you think life is like there?" Louis asked quietly.

"In Poland? God, I don't want to know. It's been almost eight months now… I don't know much Poland, honestly. What I know is that they have many Jews – that's probably a bad thing if you consider what the Nazis want" Francis replied dryly.

"I couldn't imagine living like that… I wonder how many tried to escape to the west or east" Jules muttered.

"Probably many. I wouldn't want to run, though" Francis replied.

"What? Why? You could join the exile army or something" Louis said.

"True, but when the world is at war, you have to ask yourself: When my country is under the rule of monsters, where do people need a man more: At the front line where, to be fair, he works for the liberation, or back at home to give people hope? What does a liberated country represent if there are no people left?" Francis replied and smiled: "If you compare the number of soldiers to resistance fighters, it's clear to me where you have to go."

They set up their tents behind the hilltop.  
"See that hill to the west? You can see a tiny light over there" Francis said and pointed on a dim light in the distance.

"Yeah, what is that?" Louis asked.

"That's a squad of the BEF, a part of E company of the 3rd infantry division" Francis replied and looked at the light: "They've reached their position some hours ago."  
Francis wondered what went through their heads. Were they excited? Or were they afraid? He knew that this was war, this was the thing he had waited for. But now, standing on a seemingly endless field, he wasn't so sure if he really knew what war meant. Or if he was ready for it. Was he really ready to pull the trigger and to blow someone's head to pieces? _'It doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. I have to be'_ Francis thought and looked at the stars again. They were still there. And as long as they were there, hope remained intact, too.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 (Arthur Kirkland)

"Move north?" Eric asked.

"Not us, the French First and parts of the BEF. We're supposed to hold the line and act as a reinforcement" Arthur replied tensely, "But what I'm afraid of is the Luftwaffe. Both their fighters and bombers are pretty lethal for ground troops and we don't have artillery to get them down. So, what that means, if they find us and see us, we're sitting ducks. So don't let them see us."

"Do you think we will have to engage this night?" Arthur heard someone ask.

"What difference does it make, today, tomorrow – the attack is imminent. So prepare yourselves." Arthur spoke these words, also for himself. He had to be ready. Ready to die, if it came to it.

He didn't know how much time he had left. He took out a piece of paper and began to write on it.

 _Dear mother,_

 _The Germans are moving towards us. There is no time anymore. We will have to fight, and we will have to fight hard. I hope you and father are alright. I miss you. I hope we will see us soon again. I'm not afraid of the fight, mother. I'm not afraid of the Germans. I am, however, fearing the loss of men. But this is war, and I am part of it.  
Tell father he should look out for you. In case I can't. _

_I love you,  
Arthur._

The night passed without a shot. But the silence was horrifying. No one knew what the next hour, the next minute will bring. Arthur had heard an approximate number of German tanks in action and the number was inconceivably high. He didn't exactly know the number of Allied tanks, but he doubted they even had as many as the Germans, even if one counted the ones that weren't in action in France. In the face of his men, he could only see tense excitement. No one was really scared because no one knew what war was like. Hours passed, breaking their nerves.

It was the phone that interrupted their battle they fought with themselves. Arthur picked up after the radioman had informed him that it was the HQ.

"Holland has fallen. They've bombed Amsterdam. Belgium is next. The French First is moving north, British companies to the east are moving up with them. There is a spearhead that is moving through Belgium territory now, and all attempts to stop it have failed" Arthur was informed.

"Who's the spearhead?" He asked.

"Well, the Luftwaffe follows it and bombs everything they can't destroy themselves. It's an entire Panzer division, the 7th panzer division under the command of Erwin Rommel. They are additionally supported by a SS-Totenkopf division. They have led the assault through Holland."

Arthur nodded and asked: "Still holding the line, is that still our order?"

"Well, if you could stop that dammed panzer division, I would promote you to general, but for now, yeah, hold the line" the captain remarked.

"Great. You find time for a joke even on a day like this" Arthur replied dryly, "We'll hold out here. But don't let us be sitting ducks. We need artillery when the Luftwaffe arrives!"

"We don't have artillery, Kirkland! Not enough, anyways! So hold the line and fight as good as you can, is that understood?"

Arthur gritted his teeth: "Copy that, captain."

Arthur knelt in the dirt, staring at the horizon with his binoculars. His assault rifle lay next to him.

"Hey! Hey, do you hear that?" Timothy whispered.  
It was quiet, steady rumbling.

"Please no" Arthur whispered to himself and watched a plane appear at the horizon. And another one. And another one.

"Everyone, get in the foxholes and don't move!" Arthur ordered once his brain comprehended what was happening. His voice was loud, but he could feel it shake.  
He himself dove in his foxhole and continued to watch planes fill the sky. Inconceivably many. It was like a black wave of death. The roar began to grow louder and louder. They didn't bomb the land, not for now, at least. Arthur's heart was racing as he gripped his rifle – as if holding it alone would make him invincible. But every thought of invincibility had left him the second he had spotted the armada that was coming his way. 'This can't be' he kept repeating in his head. This could not be reality. They were supposed to be stronger! Supposed to be better! But then he had an entirely different problem. Out of the sky, something started to descend.

"What?" He heard Eric exclaim.

"They're parachuting people down!" Arthur watched what looked like a squad of German paratroopers making their way down towards them. Not directly, they were some kilometres in front of them. Arthur counted 14.

"Should we shoot them?" Timothy yelled.

"Hold it, are you nuts? We'd give our position away to the aircraft and they'd bomb us!" Arthur yelled back: "We wait till their men are on the ground. They won't drop bombs on their own!"

"Where are the rest of them? You don't start an assault with a dozen men!" Benjamin remarked.

"They're probably here to either cease a hilltop for following artillery or they are the group to test the resistance power of the enemy for following troops, either way, our goal is the same. We've got to stop their advance. Radioman, inform the French and the British HQ, we could use backup!"

"They don't have any forces left for us! All we can add the squad under Ford's command! They're moving east towards our position" the radioman informed.

"Are you kidding? We need artillery!" Arthur demanded.

"They don't have any left! They are moving towards Belgium to stop the reinforcements for the spearhead" the radioman replied.  
Arthur looked down to see the locations of the German paratroopers: "Well, just them we can handle with rifles. But shooting at a tank is a lost cause. And I doubt our grenades could take them out from the spot." Arthur looked at Benjamin: "You have a compass, right?"

"Yes sir" Ben replied.

"Then you move east, meet up with Ford. Tell them to spread out in a line about one and a half kilometres long, stretching from north to south. We will split up in groups of seven and four, four remain here and they hold the hill, come what may. The rest will move with me to around the hill and towards the enemy. We'll try to push them to the east or take them out ourselves. We have quite a good amount of coverage here with the woods. We won't shoot until we have reached the end of the woods and take the position behind those bushes down there. Remember? We dug foxholes there some days ago while we were exploring the area. Let's hope they didn't find them until we get there."

It was all mechanical. Like a machine, he knew what to do and say, but he didn't do it like it was his life he was risking.

His men followed him through the woods.

"And don't talk unless it's absolutely necessary" Arthur whispered.  
His hands were cold as ice even though it was a pretty warm day. He signalised his men to get down and crawl to the trench once they reached the end of the forest so that the German paratroopers wouldn't see them or their shadows.

"Richtung Hügel, richtig?" Arthur heard.

He didn't understand a word, but he just assumed they were discussing their next move. Two of them were quite close to Arthur and his men – four were on the left and six were a bit further away. Arthur was about to raise his weapon to shoot the two close to them when he saw them moving. Moving towards them.

"Ich frage mich ja, wie lange die Franzosen noch an einen Sieg glauben –"

Arthur knew he couldn't wait – if they saw seven enemy soldiers in one and the same trench, they'd throw a grenade and they were done. He had lifted his rifle and had them in his sight, his finger on the trigger. It was a decision that he knew was not a real decision, it was his duty. He pulled it, and he pulled it again. One of them, a brown haired, rather short German fell to the ground with half of his face blown off – a sight Arthur would never forget. The other one was more lucky. He yelled in agony and grabbed his shoulder:

"Ich brauch' Verstärkung!"

And that's when all hell broke loose: The four on the left were running towards the trench and Arthur saw no other way than to throw a grenade at their feet. In hindsight, Arthur realised how lucky he was for the grenade to go off at the right time at the right pace: Early enough to wound them severely, but far enough away from his men not to injure them. Arthur looked at his men for a second who were in absolute shock and couldn't do anything.

"What are you doing, shoot, goddammit!" He yelled while taking aim again.  
Then, he heard a thud behind him. He didn't look, he knew what that meant. He had just lost is first man.

"No, no, goddammit!" He heard Ian scream.  
He stood up, and fired aimlessly. Arthur couldn't even yell at him. He was already blown into bits.

Finally, Timothy and Eric took up their rifles and started shooting back at the Germans, too. They had two fatal casualties on their side already, the Germans had one, but far more injured. "You will not succeed!" One of the German soldiers yelled in very bad English. Arthur had no time and no capacity left to reply anything. He was working more as a machine than as a human. But his aiming had been better in training when his hands weren't shaking because of excitement. But eventually, they got the situation under control – at least they thought so.

"He, Funker! Verlange Luftunterstützung!"

Again, Arthur didn't understand what that meant. But once all Germans were either dead or severely wounded and therefore incapacitated, the planes over their heads started changing their flying pattern.

"Get out of the trench!" Arthur yelled and jumped out of it himself. Most of his men followed in tranche as they watched black things rain down on them. But Pete remained in it.

"Pete, get away!" Arthur yelled again, but he had to move. He couldn't wait. But Pete… was in another world already. He watched his own death falling upon him. And once a bomb landed in his range, and Arthur could see how his body was blown to pieces, Arthur started running: "Up! We need to get up on that fucking hill!"

He can't remember ever running that fast, literally running for his life. Bombs everywhere. It was unbelievable. So loud, and there was no where you could hide. He ran, sometimes looked up, but it was useless. The bombs landed everywhere and it was sheer luck not to be hit by them. Then, he heard a scream. He looked back and saw Eric being covered in blood, his leg was hit by shrapnel.

"Fuck!" Arthur exclaimed, turned to his men and yelled: "Keep running!" He ran to Eric, threw him over his shoulders and started running again. He felt the blood running down his back. But he didn't think. There was no time for it.

Dead silence. That was all that was left behind from the German airstrike. And casualties. Arthur had lost two of his men on the first day of combat, to others were injured. Eric and Rainer. The radioman had already called in medics, so they didn't have to wait long for them. When the injured were treated, Arthur found the time to realise what had happened just now.

He stared at the blood on his uniform. He looked at the bodies that the medics recovered.

"Oh my god" he gagged when he looked at the blown of face of Ian and Pete's body that was unrecognisable. Lieutenant Winters had arrived and was standing next to him when the bodies were recovered. Arthur felt sick. Unbelievably sick. He walked some meters away from his squad and threw up. This was the first day at war, and he felt like he had seen enough for a lifetime.

 _(I hope someone out there in outer space enjoys this little thingy here xD thank you, browsofglory, for your suggestions & kind words, I hope the changes are to your liking :) I appreciate every feedback I can get!)_


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